


Normal Taako Behavior

by EdgarAllenPoet



Series: Lucretia's Volumes [My Balance Fics] [5]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Taako, Catharsis, Crying, Depression, Gen, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Taakitz Central, Whipping, kink as a coping mechanism, top kravitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 00:31:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: "It shouldn’t have to be said that Kravitz didn’t want to hit his boyfriend. "





	Normal Taako Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> This is darker than the other Taakitz fic I wrote. That was silly and fun and this is, quite literally, kink as a coping mechanism beyond the realm of any kink fics I've posted here.
> 
> Sometimes you sit down and write 10k of angst. Don't fucking psychoanalyze me over this, I don't want to think too hard about what any of this means, please and thank you.

It shouldn’t have to be said that Kravitz didn’t want to hit his boyfriend.  He was a sweetheart like that, which Taako of course appreciated. He’d dated people with less qualms about such things, consent optional, and luckily he’d had a lifetime of experience to practice dodging and weaving when people started throwing hands his way.

 

But not Kravitz.  Kravitz wasn’t ever anything but gentle with him, every touch like butterfly’s wings and every kiss lingering and every word spoken with such care and control even when he was angry.  Even when he was exhausted or stressed or drunk, times when his corporeal form failed him despite his supernatural essence. The closest he’d ever seen Kravitz to flying off the handle was their initial meeting in Lucas’s lab, and even then he’d been quick about realing himself back in and regaining control.

 

It was admirable, really.  Admirable, and terribly, terribly sweet.  And apparently, also, very annoying.

 

Taako was a little fucked up.  That didn’t have to be said either.  He would have been fucked up before forgetting his sister and being betrayed by one of his best friends.  He would have been fucked up before dying over and over, before the tragedies he’d seen with the Bureau, before Sazed, and before the IPRE.  From the day he was born, life had arranged itself to chew him up and spit him back out a little worse for wear.

 

Normally, Taako could cope.  Things were good. Life was stable for the first time since he was nine years old.  He had his family, and a home, and work that he loved, and a world that wasn’t on the brink of evaporating from time and space.  He had a boyfriend who loved him and who’d been around long enough that Taako could be confident in that. In _them_.  

 

Everything was perfect.  Taako should have been happy.

 

But there were bad days.  There were days where Taako woke up in a cold sweat, dreams and memories swirling in his head and clouding it for hours into the day, leaving him scared and shaking and full of sharp edges to run into.  There were days where Taako would forget. It was always simple things-- a name or a recipe or the entirety of his to do list or a memory the others were sure he should have shared with them. There were times he and Barry would talk, and Taako would stumble mid-sentence on something inconsequential, but Barry would look at him with such an overwhelming air of fear and dread that it sat in Taako’s chest for days.

 

There were days when Taako didn’t get out of bed.  There were days when he didn’t go to sleep, and didn’t meditate either.  

 

There were days when Kravitz’s hands on his skin, usually so comforting and more than welcome, shot panic up his spine and made him tense and snap and go off to hide.

 

Everything was perfect except for Taako.

 

He knew there were words for the shit he was going through.  He knew there were doctors to talk to and set his head right.  He knew that whatever was happening to him was plenty justified by everything he’d been through.

 

But everyone else was fine.  Everyone who’d been through the same shit he’d been through was fine.  They never came to family dinners on the brink of tears, certain that the noise of conversation was going to shatter them.  They had just as much reason to be as fucked up as he was, but they _weren’t_.

 

And Taako had some theories about that, theories that he couldn’t consider without bringing himself to tears.  Theories about a lack of resolve, and inherent weakness, that he deserved it anyways, since it wasn’t like he was a good person, that he made it all up, that he didn’t even _try_ to get better after everything.  That he was somehow incapable of being happy.

 

It wasn’t always like this, but Taako was quite accustomed to his own spirals.  He’d feel it coming, like storm clouds peeking over the mountains, and he’d start to fall apart.  He’d get tired, or sad, or frustrated, and suddenly he’d be everything at once and he’d have no choice but to suffer and wait it out and ignore all the heartbroken glances Kravitz snuck when he thought Taako wasn’t paying attention.

 

Kravitz and his never-ending patience and understanding.  It might be enough to kill Taako one day, he was certain of it.

 

Ironic, isn’t it?  Being the Grim Reaper and all.

 

It was a bad day in a string of horrible ones, and Taako knew that meant he was on the upswing again, but knowing that and feeling the joy of relief were two entirely different things.  “Better” still wasn’t “good,” and Taako had been doing so fucking good. It had been months-- literal months-- since he’d broken down like this. He’d thought he finally had a grip on himself, but no.  

 

Here they were again, Taako with his tear stained face soaking through Kravitz’s shirt, Kravitz arms wrapped tight around him and warm from the length of time they’d been in contact, his hands rubbing his back and running through his hair and wiping away tears every so often, and Taako didn’t deserve it.  He didn’t deserve someone being so nice to him when he couldn’t even be a good partner, too fucking broken to be a good partner, but had he ever been a good one anyways?

 

Had he been good to Sazed, who’d practically begged for attention and validation and love, and Taako didn’t fucking notice.  Didn’t take him seriously at all, just took and took, and it’s no wonder Sazed did what he did after all of that. No wonder he wanted him dead.  No wonder Taako couldn’t even do _that_ right, couldn’t even have the foreward thinking to taste the fucking chicken and take himself out before he took out---

 

Fuck.

 

No.

 

Taako made himself think about it, knew he didn’t deserve to spare himself from the memory of watching people drop before his eyes, watching them seize and foam and _die_ , knowing he didn’t even try to do anything to help.  

 

Just grabbed Sazed and ran, the way he always did, running away from his fucking problems.  He choked on the memory of Sazed, silent and cold until he disappeared. The memory of seeing his face on wanted posters, seeing the headlines and the bounties and knowing his life was over.

 

A sob bubbled out of his throat and he pressed his face closer to Kravitz’s chest while Kravitz rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head and shushed him.  And Taako didn’t _deserve this._  Kravitz didn’t deserve a broken fucking boyfriend, and Taako didn’t deserve kindness.  If anything he deserved to be punished.

 

And that.

 

That was a curious thought.  Curious enough to snap him out of his fit and give his stupid, broken brain something better to occupy itself with.   _Maybe that would help_ , he thought to himself.  Some kind of penance to break himself out of this stupid cycle of self-deprecation and self-loathing and all that bullshit.

 

He chewed on the thought while they lay there, mulling it over and wanting to be absolutely sure, but Taako had never been one for patience.  He was impulsive, making his mind up quickly and confidently and going with his gut despite potential consequences.

 

So by the end of the hour, when Kravitz was dosing peacefully under him and Taako had been more or less in control of his emotions again for a good amount of time, he’d made up his mind.  Taako shifted, nuzzling a little closer to Kravitz and wrapping his arm tighter around him. He drew tiny circles with his finger on the soft material of his t-shirt covering his ribs. Kravitz huffed a barely there chuckle and peeked an eye open.

 

“How are you feeling, love?” he asked with a sleep-cracked voice, and the sweetness of it nearly shoved Taako back over the edge.  It didn’t, though. He took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of blueberries and aftershave and ozone-- Kravitz still shaved when he had the time, even if he had the power to banish the hair by sheer force of will, he said it helped him feel alive --and made his mind up.

 

“Krav,” he started, voice not faring any better than Kravitz’s as he spoke around the sore lump in his throat.  “I want to ask you something.”

 

He felt Kravitz start to shift and sit up, and he clung onto him, pulling him back down.  He couldn’t look him in the eyes for this conversation. He screwed his eyes shut and held Kravitz right where he was, felt a familiar hand settle in his hair.  Kravitz asked, “What is it?” and Taako almost lost his nerve.

 

He’d gotten the idea from an old memory, of a vicious world that no longer existed, one they couldn’t save.  Of stern orders from Davenport to ‘seriously and I do mean seriously, keep a low profile on this planet they do _not_ take kindly to law breakers.’  They’d seen what that meant exactly on newspaper headlines sometime during that cycle, saw a report of a public whipping where the criminal was sentenced to thirty lashes-- one for every diamond he’d stolen-- and Taako never asked what Davenport had seen when he and Magnus went down for an initial investigation before landing.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

 

But it felt fitting, almost.  Crime and punishment and all that.  Forty lives for forty lashes, and it wasn’t like he and Kravitz hadn’t done roleplay in this vein before.  The night where Kravitz “arrested” him for his crimes against the Raven Queen’s court and proceeded to “punish” him with a feather was incredibly memorable.

 

But this wasn’t sex.  This wasn’t fun. This was healing, maybe, hopefully, if it fucking worked.  It was what he deserved, at least. Taako had learned that lesson at a very young age-- you do something wrong, you get hit for it-- and despite growing up learning that unfairness in that, there was no shaking the idea once it settled in his head.

 

If he didn’t say it now, he wasn’t going to say it at all.  He bit the bullet, steeled himself, and said, “I need you to hit me.”

 

Neither of them said anything for a very long time, and the silence was enough that Taako worried the air would shatter if he breathed.  Eventually, without a word, Kravitz lifted his hand from its spot on Taako’s head, and Taako felt the feather-light tap of a palm against his cheek.  Taako frowned and opened his eyes, found Kravitz staring gently at him.

 

“Bap,” he said, and Taako’s stupid floating head slammed back into his body with enough force to propel Taako out of bed and onto his feet.

 

“Forget it,” he snapped, storming out of the room, and here he goes running away again.  Signature Taako move, nobody ought to be surprised.

 

“What?” Kravitz’s voice called from the bedroom, and Taako heard the mattress creak as he rolled to his feet to follow.  Taako wanted to run, wanted to _leave_ , but where was he going to go anyways?  He was half-dressed and it was three p.m. on a Sunday afternoon and if he went to anyone else he’d have a lot of explaining to do anyways, but he needed to _run_.

 

He paced in the living room like a caged animal, tripping over himself and clutching at his hair, trying to get his breath to come out in a way that didn’t feel like shaking apart.  That was where Kravitz found him, and he stood in the mouth of the hallway and frowned and did that thing with his fingers that meant he was worried and Taako was ruining _everything_.

 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke, suddenly, and Taako flinched.  Kravitz cringed, stepped carefully into the room, hands out like he was cornering something dangerous.  “I’m sorry, baby, I thought you were joking. I didn’t mean to--”

 

“I’m not joking,” Taako snapped back, voice harsh and mean, and Kravitz didn’t even seem to notice.  Taako tried to scare him away, and Kravitz took it in stride every single fucking time. Taako didn’t deserve him.  “I’m not joking,” he repeated, “And I swear to God if you laugh I will-- will fucking, fucking eldritch blast your spooky ass or something, I don’t, I don’t know, _fuck_.”

 

The last word came out as a shout, and Kravitz took another hesitant step forwards.  “Okay,” he said, voice making it obvious that he was taking it seriously. “Okay, I promise I won’t laugh.  Take a deep breath for me, okay? Just breathe and we can talk about it.”

 

“Why are you so fucking nice to me!?” he snapped without meaning to, and Kravitz grinned but he didn’t laugh.  There was something sad in his eyes.

 

He said, “Because I love you.  Come here, please, can I touch you?”

 

Taako swallowed hard, made his hands stop shaking, and nodded.  Kravitz held his arms out and Taako stepped into them, forehead dropping against Kravitz’s shoulder.  Kravitz wrapped his arms around him, squeezed him gently, and tucked Taako’s head under his chin.

 

“Okay,” he breathed out, voice quiet.  “You’re okay, I got you. Just talk to me, okay?”

 

“You’re going to think it’s so weird.”  Taako hated how tiny his own voice sounded, but he liked the feeling of Kravitz’s lips against his forehead.

 

“I’ve been around for six hundred years, darling, I don’t think surprising me is possible.”

 

Taako huffed out a laugh and argued, “You startle at the drop of a hat, bones, you’re not fooling anyone.”

 

Kravitz smiled where his mouth was pressed against the crown of his head, and he kissed him again.  “You got me there,” he conceded. “Come, sit with me. I’ll put some tea on and you can tell me what’s going on.”

 

“I don’t know if I can explain it,” Taako said wearily, drawing away a little bit and letting Kravitz hold his hand and lead him into the kitchen.  “And _I’m_ making the tea, you think ‘chai’ is fancy, for Our Lady’s sake.”

 

Kravitz smiled again, and Taako was proud of himself for getting enough of a grip to pull out a joke or too.  “Then at least explain what you asked me to do,” he corrected. “And you can make the tea.”

 

Taako busied his hands doing just that while Kravitz hopped up and sat on the counter, close enough that Taako could reach out and touch without trying.  He gathered spices and put the pot on, then rolled the small jars in his hands and let his hip bump against Kravitz’s knee. It kept him grounded. He didn’t say anything, just soaked in the sensations of Kravitz at his hip and one of the cats threading itself through his legs and the cold glass in his hands.  His eyes glazed over, and Kravitz leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder.

 

“Love?”

 

“Okay,” Taako breathed out.  “But I swear, Kravitz, if you laugh at me--”

 

“Cross my heart.”  He did exactly that, and Taako couldn’t help his grin.  He sighed and gathered two tea cups, two metal balls that he filled with spices carefully measured with shaking hands.  

 

Taako held his breath for a moment and explained, and Kravitz, bless his heart, took it in stride the way he took everything else.

 

Taako said, “I need you to hit me,” and Kravitz pressed for a better explanation.  How, and why? Where? And Taako explained while twisting the balls closed and pouring the tea what he’d seen and what he’d been thinking and what he needed.  

 

“I’m, my… my fucking head is on the fritz, and I need.  I need _something_ , babe, just, I need something to get rid of all this fucking guilt, I just can’t, I don’t know what to--”

 

He stood between Kravitz’s knees and rested his head on his shoulder and sipped idly at his tea.  Kravitz asked if he’d ever did this before, and Taako grimaced at memories that rose up. He answer kind of, with Brad, once back in the day.  He didn’t mention Sazed or anything from his childhood or anything he thought might scare Kravitz off with all of this. He tried not to think about how fucked up all of this was, that he’d spent so long trying not to get hit and now he was fucking asking for it.  What was _wrong_ with him?

 

Kravitz asked if it helped, and Taako realized it had.  He hadn’t been as torn up, the circumstances had been different, but something had gone quiet in his head with the knowledge that Brad could hurt him and handle him and Taako would make it out safe in the end.  He’d woken up sore and satisfied and wrapped up entirely in the orc’s arms.

 

He’d barely known Brad, nothing like the level to which he knew Kravitz.  If he could get that with an acquaintance, it had to be better with someone he actually loved.  Actually trusted. It had to work-- Taako was kind of running out of options.

 

“I need to think about it,” Kravitz said finally.  They’d moved to the couch, and Taako was sitting curled against his chest with his legs over his lap and his tea cup empty in his hands.  Kravitz rubbed his knee, squeezed gently. He said, “I don’t want to hit you.”

 

Taako said, “I know.”

 

“This doesn’t mean ‘no,’” Kravitz was quick to add, leaning away and regarding Taako seriously.  “I’m not saying ‘no.’ I just need time, okay? I need to sort this out in my head.”

 

Taako huffed out a laugh and wriggled a little closer.  “Sure thing, bones, take your time,” he said, knowing that whatever was wrong with his head-- that his mistakes and his guilt and his failure to do something as simple as feel happy-- wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Kravitz wrapped him up tight in his arms and the cats hopped up to cuddle with them, and Taako started to feel just barely like he was going to be okay again.  That mixed with anxiety in his gut, the fear that he shouldn’t have brought this up, shouldn’t have threatened their relationship by putting all of this on Kravitz in the first place.

 

But it was easy to quiet all of that when so thoroughly wrapped up in affection.

 

Kravitz said, voice merely a whisper, “Thank you for telling me,” and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.  “You scare me, sometimes. I don’t know how to help, but I want to help you get through this.”

And of course he did.  He was a sweetheart like that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Lup was easy to get ahold of, considering they worked together.  When they’d first met, she’d made Kravitz rather nervous. Here was this person-- this wonderful, powerful, _terrifying_ person-- with the confidence and the skill to join the Raven Queen’s court after years and years of death crimes, a lich with magic spoken of in legends, someone who knew Taako so entirely and so thoroughly, someone who cornered Kravitz with the staff of her scythe against his throat and said that if he ever thought of doing _anything_ to hurt her brother, she’d “ _leave nothing left but a piece of charcoal, homie, you’d better believe it,”_ as she’d phrased so eloquently.

 

That had been years ago.  Before hours working at each other’s side and sharing dinners and even living quarters for a short while, before drunken evenings where they put back enough that their corporeal forms were officially compromised, before they turned into family somewhere along the way.

 

The first time Kravitz and Lup had spent time together, just the two of them, playing cards and talking and telling stories.  That had been the start of something.

 

Now it was old hat to wake up in the morning-- a habit he’d gotten into after moving in with Taako-- to find Lup making coffee in his kitchen.  It was comfortable to share space with Barry while the twins went off to do _whatever_ it was they were getting up to, to share trips to the market.  They had inside jokes. They shared mannerisms. Maybe he didn’t share an entire century with him; he didn’t have the history the others shared, but that was fine.  Kravitz had a family again.

 

A family he feared might actually kill him over this entire situation, and that was if Taako didn’t get to him first.  If Taako _ever_ found out that Kravitz had gone to his twin sister for advice on this, there would be unholy retribution to face, the likes of which the world had never seen.

 

But he needed to talk to someone, someone who knew Taako in a way that he didn’t, and if there was _anyone_ who could help with this _and_ keep a secret, it was his sister-in-law.

 

Lup was currently smirking at him over a cup of coffee, eyebrow quirked curiously, obviously terribly amused by the situation and Kravitz’s own nerves.  

 

“If you’re here to ask for my blessing, you might as well spit it out already,” she said, while Kravitz sifted through words in his head.  Those words stuttered to a stop. He looked up, mouth agape, and Lup sipped her drink.

 

“I… that’s… actually, that’s not what I came here to talk about,” he said, suddenly wondering if that’s what he _should_ be here to talk about.

 

“Bummer.”

 

“Not that I don’t want to, of course, I mean I will, but.”  He closed his eyes for a moment and brought himself back, opened them to find Lup laughing at him.  “That is a conversation for a different day. I… have sort of a problem that I need advice with.”

 

“A problem with Taako?” she asked.

 

He cringed, tilted his head to the side, and said, “Kind of?”

 

She nodded, took another sip, and said, “Shoot.”  Despite the casual air of her body posture, Kravitz picked up on the way her eyes narrowed slightly, her jaw set, her left ear twitched almost imperceptibly.  He appreciated her taking this seriously, and prayed to his Lady that she didn’t kill him.

 

“He’s asked me to do something kind of strange,” he confessed, watching the teasing light that flashed in her eyes.  “And I couldn’t get a very good answer as to _why_ he wants this, or… or what it means, I suppose, but I have a feeling it’s something rather serious.  It just feels like dangerous territory, and well. If anyone knows what’s going on in his head, I figured you would.”

 

“I can try,” she replied.  “It’s harder than it used to be, after everything.  My stupid baby brother went off and grew up without me, but I can try.  Doubt the punk went and got _that_ mysterious and brooding.”

 

“You can’t tell him I’m telling you this,” Kravitz said before confessing anything of value. “I… he wouldn’t….”

 

“I get it,” she said, saving him.  She held up a hand. “I won’t tell him, unless I need to, but I’m trusting you’re not enough of an idiot to actually fuck up that bad.”

 

Backhanded as it was, Kravitz took a moment to consider that compliment.  He picked up his cup and took a sip, relishing the sensation of warm coffee running down his throat.  He sighed and set the cup down, wondered if it was the same for her, if her and Barry sometimes felt disconnected from their own flesh.

 

Conversation for another time, a time with hopefully heaping quantities of liquor.  He kind of wished he was drunk for this; should have taken her to a bar.

 

“He asked me to hit him,” Kravitz finally said, watching Lup’s eyebrows jump to her hairline.  He held his breath, considered explaining but decided to see what she said first.

 

She leaned forward on the table, elbows braced and chin in her hands.  She narrowed her eyes at him, an obvious threat, and asked, “What did you say?”

 

“That I’d think about it,” he said, and quickly after, “And that I don’t want to.  I…. Of course I would never, why would I want to--?”

 

“Sex is weird, I don’t judge,” Lup cut him off, making light of the situation, a Twin Classic.  

He let himself grin, felt the smile shift sad, and said, “Yeah, no, this definitely isn’t a sex thing.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“No offense, but I wouldn’t really come to you for sex advice.”

 

Lup held her arms out and leaned back in her chair.  “Who could blame you, though? I’m an expert. You can ask Barry, though that conversation might kill him, actually.  Full ghost, y’know? He’s always been bashful about that shit.”

 

“I think it’s something else.  Some kind of catharsis or something.  He… He’s been a little off lately.”

The teasing dropped, and Lup grew serious again.  “Off how?”

 

“Sad.”

 

“What kind of sad?”

 

“He gets into these moods.  Something will shift, I don’t know what happens, but he gets something in his head and bums himself out.  He’ll be quiet and tired for days, out of nowhere. Easily frustrated. He…” Kravitz felt bad airing out this last part, but he needed to vent damn it.  He was doing his best, but it felt like he was drowning. “The day he asked me, he spent the entire day in tears. I just… I don’t know how to help him….”

 

Lup chewed at the lip of her paper coffee cup as she considered this all silently.  She drummed her fingers on the table, fingernails clacking quietly against the wood, and eventually said, “Yeah, that’s weird.”

 

“Not normal Taako behavior then?”

 

She shook her head, said, “He’s always been easy to cheer up.  And I mean, _always_ , and we saw some shit growing up that kids ain’t supposed to bounce back from, yaknow?”

 

He didn’t know, wasn’t sure he wanted to.  

 

“And he wants you to hit him?” she asked, and he nodded, sipped at his drink, let himself relax a little as it seemed that if she’d intended to set him on fire for this conversation she would have done so already.  

 

“But you haven’t yet?”

 

“No, of course not.”  She shifted, crossed her legs, tilted her head a bit.  He noticed fire dancing on her fingertips as she thought.  

 

“Then I guess you should go for it,” she answered eventually, and Kravitz nearly blanched at the suggestion.

 

“You can’t be serious,” he argued, but the look she shot him was _very_ serious.

 

“Taako’s a smart cookie,” she said.  “He knows what he wants, and it’s not really worth it to try and change his mind on stupid ideas like this.  If he wants you to hit him, then figure out what he means and go for it.”

 

“I do believe you threatened to burn me to the ground if I even _thought_ about hurting your brother,” he cautioned.

 

A mean smile spread across her lips.  “I threatened you?” she asked, reached across the table and patted his arm.  “Aw, poor baby. But no, bubbeleh, for serious. Taako and I grew up alone-- you know this.  That boy is my entire heart, and if my heart decides that he needs his boyfriend to beat his ass so he can get his head right, then I’m not going to put a stop to it.  None of my business, please and thank you.”

 

“What if it’s a mistake?” Kravitz asked, and he was more than willing to admit to himself-- and maybe to Lup-- that this entire situation scared the living hell out of him.  

 

She smiled sadly, shrugged, and said, “We make lots of mistakes.  I’m not my brother’s keeper. That’s your job now.” A wider smile spread across her face, and she slapped his arm as she laughed.  “Crypt keeper-- get it? Laugh, I’m the queen of comedy.”

 

He humored her with a small grin, not sure how he felt about that.  He wanted to take care of Taako, of course he did, but he couldn’t help but feel in over his head sometimes.  He couldn’t help but feel like he was failing.

 

Her face turned serious, and it really was some sort of magic how quickly the twins could navigate different tones in a conversation.  She took his hands across the table, ice against ice, and said, “I’m going to make him sit down and talk this out, okay? I… I know you’re trying, but I think he might need to talk to someone who’s been there, okay?   Our group isn’t keen on talking about feelings and that mush, but Magnus has been having a hard time too lately, and I think this might be a group therapy sorta situation, ya feel?”

 

He nodded.  She squeezed his hands and let him go.  

 

“I expect a written report of how this goes.  I’ll betcha ten gold you get off on it.”

 

She was teasing again, of course, but Kravitz couldn’t help but scoff at the suggestion, disgust contorting his face.  “Absolutely _not_ \--”

 

“See ya’, skeletor.  Thanks for the coffee.”  She kissed him on the cheek, and then she was gone, and Kravitz was left alone with his thoughts and his lukewarm beverage.  He gave himself thirty seconds to mull it over, then tossed his coffee at the door, stepped somewhere out of sight, and cut a rift towards home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t breech the conversation right away-- couldn’t have found the words even if he wanted to.  He hadn’t expected to walk out of there with Lup’s support. In fact, he’d been going in expecting her to call him an idiot and talk him out of it, tell him that if he ever touched her brother she’d give him double and find a way to lock him in the eternal stockade.

 

The twins were weird, but that wasn’t anything new.  

 

His favorite twin was sitting on the living room floor when he came in, one cat perched precariously on his shoulders and a delighted grin decorating Taako’s face as the second cat bumped its tiny forehead against his cheek.  Kravitz’s heart melted at the sight, and he took it in for a moment, just watching Taako smiling, before crossing the room to join them. He plopped down cross legged on the floor and let one of them crawl into his lap while Taako leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

 

“Coffee?” he asked curiously, knowing Kravitz tended not to eat or drink much unless Taako prepared it, since nutrition wasn’t a necessity for him.  He shrugged on shoulder, chuckled as their cat pressed its paws to his chest and sniffed at his face. He picked the creature up and flipped it to cradle in his arms like a baby.  The cat mewled pitifully at the treatment, and Taako laughed.

 

“Grabbed a bite with Lup,” he said, not big on lying to his boyfriend.  “She saw something pretty weird last week, said we had to go out like real people so I could properly experience her story.”

 

She had told that story while they were out, before Kravitz had found the balls to start the real conversation.  Something about a teenage necromancer being so startled by her bursting into the room in a blaze of fire that the kid screamed, ran smack into Barry, and passed out.  They’d been there to scare her straight in the first place, and watching Barry lose his shit over the KO’d teenager at his feet had been a sight to see, apparently. Kravitz relayed the story to Taako, who grinned and shook his head, and responded with a story about the time Barry and Lup accidentally swapped bodies for a week when fucking around with experimental dissociation rituals.

 

They had a good afternoon playing with a cats, and it stretched into a good evening in the kitchen, the two of them sipping wine and trading lingering touches while Taako put him to work stirring risotto on the stove top.  Things felt good. Taako was at ease, relaxed and grinning and okay, and Kravitz was so relieved he felt like crying.

 

He didn’t want to bring it up, didn’t want to risk killing the good mood and bringing back the storm clouds that had been lurking over their heads this past week, but he figured it was crueler to leave the conversation unfinished than to nip it in the bud early.

 

He brought it up, eyes fixed on the bubbling rice or noodles or whatever it was in front of him.  He stepped out of the way, still stirring, when Taako knelt and opened to over to inspect the meat he had broiling.  

 

“So I thought about it…” he said eventually, picking a mushroom out of the pan and popping it into his mouth, earning himself a stern frown from Taako.  Taako shut the oven, took the spatula from his hand, and shooed him away from the stove. Kravitz stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the counter.  He’d feared Taako wouldn’t realize what he was talking about, that he’d somehow magically forgotten in the three days since that day, but the way his ears flattened ever so slightly against his head suggested that he knew entirely what Kravitz was getting at.   “I thought about it,” he repeated. “And I’ll do it. If you want me to. You have to tell me exactly what you want, and we have to talk about it, but… I’ll do it, love.”

 

Taako’s ears perked back up, but his expression stayed guarded as he considered Kravitz through the corner of his eye.  He held a hand out, which Kravitz took, and he pulled him back over to the stove. He pressed the spatula back into his hands and pressed a kiss behind Kravitz’s ear.

 

“Thanks,” he said, voice sounding choked.  Kravitz stood while Taako wrapped his arms around him and pressed against his back, hair ticking the back of Kravitz’s neck, breath hot against his shoulder.

 

“You alright, darling?” he asked, and Taako pressed a smile to the skin of his neck.  It tickled.

 

“I will be,” he answered.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They didn’t do it that night, nor did they do it during the week that followed.  Life returned to the way it had been, to the comfortable routine they’d developed with each other, until one evening about ten days after his conversation with Lup.  Kravitz stepped into their home and hung his scythe and cloak up at the door. The living room was dark, the house was silent, and Kravitz knew what was happening before he even walked into it.  

 

Taako was at the kitchen table, sitting in the dark and staring at his hands, a far away expression on his face.  Kravitz stopped before reaching out to him, stood with his hands on the back of a chair nearby, and spoke quietly.  “Hey.”

 

Taako looked up at him, and his eyes spoke novels.  They were huge, pupils blown from sitting in the dark for a good amount of time.  He wasn’t wearing any glamour, so Kravitz could see the dark shadows littering his eyes.  Could see the bloodshot sclera, the weary lines of his face, the incline of his eyebrows. Could see the sheen that came over his eyes and the stiffening of his chin.

 

“Hey….” he mumbled.  Kravitz held a hand out, and Taako took it, which was invitation enough for Kravitz to lean down and press a kiss to the crown of his head.  His watch suggested he’d been away on this mission for close to twenty-four hours. The dull of Taako’s unwashed hair suggested he hadn’t left the house at all during that time.

 

“How do I help?” he whispered, squeezing Taako’s hand.  Taako’s shoulders jumped in silent laughter.

 

“Still on board for the worst plan ever?” he asked, and Kravitz had been afraid of that.

 

Talking about it was awkward, and if Kravitz were a wiser and braver man he would have done this days ago instead of when Taako was snapping and anxious and already deep in the midst of it.  They got through a conversation though, a conversation that brought out shouting and tears at one point, Kravitz feeling very much like he was grasping at straw as Taako stormed past him, dug into the closet, and returned with a belt that he all but shoved at Kravitz.  

 

Kravitz stood for a second, staring at what ought to have been an innocent accessory sitting in his hands, and tried to solve what felt like a riddle without words.  Taako stood in front of him, face both desperate and furious, tears brimming in his eyes and jaw raised stubbornly.

 

“We’re using a safe word,” Kravitz said, and Taako immediately shook his head.  “We don’t know if this will work,” he insisted. “You say stop, and I’ll stop of course, but I want some kind of code.  For me, okay? Please.”

 

Taako chewed on his lip, shifted his weight, and finally nodded sharply.  “Fine. Traffic lights then, whatever. You know it?”

 

Kravitz nodded.  “I do. Red for emergencies?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Taako shifted again, clenched and unclenched his fists, and Kravitz watched something settle into the set of his shoulders.  He straightened a bit, put on a faux air of confidence, and said, “No time like the present then.” He met Kravitz’s eyes stubbornly as he crossed the room, smoothed down the blankets on their bed, and bent over the edge.  He braced himself on his hands, elbows locked, and stared straight down at the covers.

 

“You’re sure…?”

 

Taako’s voice was harsh and impatient.  “Yes _, darling.”_  Kravitz ignored the venom in his voice, knew that sometimes Taako got scared or hurt and he lashed out and regretted it later.  Kravitz had thick enough skin to take it, enough wisdom to understand it. He looked down at the belt in his hands, turned it over a bit.  He folded the loose end so that the buckle was enveloped in a layer of leather and clutched in his hand, no chance of it coming loose and causing any real damage.  

 

The stupid thing looked menacing.

 

Kravitz was a grown man-- a centuries old emissary of the Goddess of Death-- and he was scared of a belt he wasn’t even going to be hit with.

 

“Could you _please_ stop being a fucking pussy and get on with it?” Taako snapped, glaring at Kravitz over his shoulder.  Kravitz raised his eyebrows, surprised, and Taako quickly dropped his head. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, fuck Krav, I just….”

 

“It’s okay,” Kravitz said, walking over and running his hand over Taako’s lower back.  He squeezed his hip, leaned down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades.  Taako’s breath hitched. “It’s okay, I got you. You sure you want to try and go to forty?”

 

Taako nodded jerkily.  “Forty. I’m sure.”

 

“You can always tell me to stop.  Say the word, I mean it. If this doesn’t feel right, I don’t want to do it.”

 

Taako reached back a hand and fumbled for Kravitz’s own.  “I promise,” he said. “Safe words and all that, I’ll talk to you.  Go ahead and give it to me, thug, cha’boy isn’t made of porcelain.”

 

Sometimes Kravitz wasn’t so sure about that, watching how easy it was for Taako to fumble apart.  But porcelain didn’t stitch itself back together after crumbling. Porcelain didn’t have that kind of tenacity.  Porcelain didn’t stare you in the eyes and tell you how to hurt it.

 

Sometimes Taako was braver than anyone gave him credit for.  “Red to stop,” he confirmed. “Or ‘stop,’ or ‘no,’ or… or ‘get your hands off me, you asshole,’ or…”

 

He was interrupted by Taako giggling, muscles jumping under Kravitz’s hand.  “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’m serious, I promise to keep you updated. I’m not counting out loud, though.”

 

“That’s fine,” Kravitz answered.  He stepped back, made some space, and tried to bring back the muscle memory from practicing on a pillow earlier that week.  He wanted to be prepared for this, do it right if he was going to do it at all. But Taako wasn’t a pillow, and despite the fact that they’d both remained fully dressed for the occasion, Kravitz couldn’t forget that he was hitting flesh instead of feathers.  

 

He took a steadying breath, removed his hand from the middle of Taako’s back, raised the belt just past his shoulder and swung.

 

The leather clapped as it slapped against the seat of Taako’s pants, and Taako’s entire body flinched.  Kravitz held his breath, waited for the word to stop, and was surprised when Taako rolled his shoulder and straightened his back, sticking his ass out farther.

 

“I thought I said to give it to me good, huh?  If I wanted you to tickle me I’d ask for it.” Taako’s voice was strained, but his words eased the anxiety whizzing around in his head.  Kravitz grinned, just slightly, and raised the belt again.

 

“We’ll get there,” he answered, he swung the belt, he hit a little bit harder.  

 

The sound of leather against cloth and flesh was deafening, and Kravitz barely heard Taako hiss in a breath through his teeth.  Kravitz watched him carefully, watched Taako shift his weight and settle back into position.

 

“Again,” he said, and Kravitz obliged.

 

Ten strikes in and Kravitz nerves finally settled.  He fell into what felt like a trance-- the pull in his shoulder as he swung the belt, the crash of it against Taako’s skin, the few seconds of heavy breathing between the two of them until Taako nodded, or spoke, and every time Kravitz was sure he was going to say ‘stop’ but instead he said ‘again.’

 

He started counting at eight, not trusting himself to keep track in his head.  Just the quiet muttering of numbers at the tip of his tongue, just loud enough for Taako to hear him through his ragged breathing.  Closer to twenty, and Taako collapsed to his elbows on shaking arms. Kravitz froze, waiting, until Taako picked his head up and mumbled something about yesterday being ‘arm day,’ and an easy command to keep going, he was fine.

 

After twenty he failed to keep quiet any longer.  Every strike of the belt was coupled with at first whimpers (“twenty-one”) and then cries that he tried to muffle in the crook of his arm (“twenty-three…. Halfway there, darling, are you sure?”)

 

“Don’t pussy out on me now, Kravy,” Taako said.  

 

“You’re not going to get anywhere by baiting me,” Kravitz responded, and hit him again.  Taako jumped forward, shouting into the bedspread, and Kravitz stepped back and waited him out.  It took longer than before, for Taako to nod his head and whisper, “Keep going,” this time tacking on a quiet, “ _please._ ”

 

Kravitz still didn’t like it, still wasn’t getting anything out of it or viewing this as anything but a task to be done carefully and methodically, but he kept going.  He would have done anything Taako asked of him, including this. Including probably anything else.

 

The “keep going”s dissolved into “please”s somewhere between twenty-four and thirty.  Kravitz was tempted to stop then, frightened by the way Taako’s entire form was trembling, face hidden permanently in the crook of his arm and hands clenched in the blankets.

 

“Can you do ten more, love?” he asked, running a gentle hand over Taako’s back.  He was on fire, heat radiating off of him, hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat.  He didn’t answer right away, and Kravitz hoped silently for a “no.”

 

Instead, in yet another show of incredibly resolve, Taako pulled himself up a little and glanced at Kravitz over his shoulder.  His face was flushed, eyes glassy and lip bitten swollen, but he managed the smallest grin with the corner of his mouth and said, “Told ya cha’boy don’t break easy.”

 

“Ten more,” he all but commanded, and Kravitz couldn’t back out now.  “Forty lives of contrition to pay for,” he mumbled, almost incomprehensible.  Kravitz wondered what he meant like that, if it was something he was meant to understand.  

 

Kravitz hit him for thirty-one, and Taako choked on a cry and said, “Harder.”

 

Kravitz hit harder, and Taako screamed, caught his breath, and said, “Harder… _please_.”

 

Harder, and Taako didn’t say anything for thirty-three.  He didn’t say stop either, and at this point Kravitz trusted him to if he needed to.  Lup was right. Taako knew what he wanted, or what he needed, or whatever. It wasn’t Kravitz’s job to decide that for him.  So, despite the fact that Taako was shaking and despite the sob that shuddered out of him at thirty-four, Kravitz raised the belt and hit him again.

 

Thirty-five, and Taako was sobbing, heaving in breaths against the blankets and no longer speaking.  Kravitz took his time, giving him a chance to speak. He didn’t. Thirty-six, thirty-seven, and thirty-eight and the only sound was the snap of leather and Taako’s shuddering cries, which was nearly enough to tear Kravitz in half right down the middle.  He considered using the safeword himself, considered calling it quits, but they’d made it this far. If Taako was brave enough to see it through, so was Kravitz. Thirty-nine caught them both off guard, Kravitz flinching at the harsh cry that fell from Taako’s mouth, and he landed forty before he could lose his nerve.

 

Taako sobbed out an apology and collapsed against the bed, shoulders heaving in cries as he let a string of words fall from his mouth, babbling “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to, I’m _sorry_ ,” and for a second, Kravitz was totally lost.  

 

Then he dropped the belt on the floor, knelt on the floor next to Taako, and gathered him into his arms.  “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, it’s okay, I got you. You can cry, it’s okay, you did so well.”

 

He was barely aware of the words leaving his mouth, unsure of what he was saying beyond the feeling of wanting to fix this, wanting to soothe his lover and hold him and make everything okay again.  It was awkward, the two of them half-kneeling on their bedroom floor. Kravitz found a way to draw Taako away from the bed, got him to collapse against him instead. Taako pressed his face to the crook of Kravitz’s neck and sobbed burning hot tears against his kin.   Kravitz eased them back, letting the bed frame support their weight as he settled back and pulled Taako properly into his arms, still mostly kneeling over him. He pressed kisses to Taako’s hair and ran his hands over his back and arms and cradled the back of his head and murmured sweet nothings that were almost as much to sooth him as they were to sooth Taako.

 

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, still pitiful with time in the material plane after several years of practice, but eventually Taako’s shoulders still and the trembling stopped, and after that his breathing steadied his clinging hands loosened their wrinkling hold on the front of his shirt.  Eventually he shifted a little, waking Kravitz from what felt like a daze, and his breath tickled Kravitz neck as he spoke, a mumbled, “Well that was fucking embarrassing….”

 

That was.  The very last thing Kravitz was expecting him to say.  It caught him by surprise enough that a laugh bubbled out of him, shoulders shaking as he giggled almost uncontrollably, and Taako finally sat up a bit to brace his hands on Kravitz’s shoulders and gape at him.

 

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh at me, you son of a bitch,” he said, faux-outraged, as Kravitz fell apart further, laughter knocking the wind out of him.  Taako gaped at him for a few long seconds before a smile cracked his face, and then he was laughing too, collapsing back against Kravitz’s chest and giggling until the two of them were crying again.

 

Kravitz didn’t realize he was crying until he rested his cheek against Taako’s head and it stuck.  He reached up, swiped at the moisture with the heel of his hand. Taako picked his head up to look at him, and Kravitz used the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears from Taako’s face.  He leaned in, pressed a kiss to his nose and over his eyelids and to the middle of his forehead.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz whispered.

 

Taako replied, “Thank you.”

 

Kravitz leaned in and let his head fall against Taako’s shoulder, and he breathed him in for a moment, took in the sent of sweat and laundry and three-day old lavender bath oils.  He pressed a kiss to Taako’s neck and patted his hip without thinking about it, causing Taako to hiss and squirm in his arms.

 

“ _Gods_ ,” he gasped, taking Kravitz’s hands and holding them up out of harm’s way.  “Trying to _kill_ me, thug?” he asked, voice not at it’s usual register but closer to okay than it had been at all that day.  He staggered to his feet, and Kravitz was quick to follow him up and steady him.

 

“Bedtime,” he said, settling down and pulling Taako with him.  He held the covers out and tucked them over their legs when Taako settled against his chest, sprawling out on his stomach and nosing at Kravitz’s chest.  “How are you feeling?” Kravitz asked him.

 

Taako hummed quietly. “Sore,” he answered eventually, and then, “Thoroughly humiliated.  I don’t…. I don’t know if it worked.”

 

“Was worth a shot, I suppose,” Kravitz replied, not knowing whether to feel relieved or disappointed.  

 

“When I… when I did something kind of like this before, it totally cleared my head out.  Made everything fall silent, you know? Felt like I was flying.”

 

“Didn’t work this time?” Kravitz asked.  Taako pressed a kiss to his chest.

 

“Felt different.  Less like flying, more like… it feels like I’ve been underwater, and now everything feels fake and weird and loud.”

 

“We’ll be quiet, then,” Kravitz replied in a whisper, pulling Taako a little more firmly into his arms.   

 

“That hurt like a bitch,” Taako lamented, and Kravitz nearly laughed again.

 

He stretched an arm out and rolled his shoulder, more for show than anything.  It felt stiff. “I think I pulled a muscle.” Taako picked his head up, then rose up enough to press a kiss to Kravitz’s shoulder before collapsing back onto his chest.  Kravitz let out a quiet ‘oof’ as the air left him.

 

“Want me to kiss your bottom and make it feel better?” he asked, running his hand down Taako’s back and cupping his ass as gently as he could manage.  It was burning hot even through two layers of fabric.

 

Taako groaned, shifted, and propped his chin up on Kravitz’s chest to glare.  “Never call it that ever again, am I _five_?” Kravitz chuckled.  Taako grinned at him lazily.  “My ass if off limits for the next week.  Don’t even think about it, bone boy, you’ll have to go to one of your mistresses to get your rocks off in the meantime.”

 

“Misters?” Kravitz corrected, musing, and it earned him a giggle.  “We could always ask Merle to--”

 

“I would rather fucking die, I swear on Our Lady, Kravitz.”

 

“Don’t want Merle touching your butt?” he teased, and Taako retaliated by burying his face against Kravitz’s bicep and sinking his teeth in.  Kravitz yelped, Taako laughed, and they settled into comfortable silence again.

 

Minutes passed.  Taako got up and limped over to the door when the cats started pawing at it.  He curled back up, almost entirely on top of Kravitz, like some kind of cuddly, sweaty, elf blanket.  Kravitz ran his hands over his back and kissed his head and didn’t mind in the least bit.

 

“I mean it,” Taako said.  “Thank you. I… I know that was weird for you, but I.  I really appreciate it.”

 

“Anything for you, love,” he answered, grinning when Taako picked his head up and pecked his lips before settling down again.  “I just want you to be okay, and whatever it takes to get there, we’ll figure it out together.”

 

“You’re too good to me,” Taako said, voice almost sounding heart broken.

 

“Impossible.  You deserve the world.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Taako was still sore three days later when they went over for brunch at Lup’s house.  He thought it was a little ridiculous that they were doing brunch at the Blupjeans household when his own kitchen was _immaculate_ , but Kravitz pointed out that it meant they didn’t have to tidy the living room, so he supposed he’d let it slide this time.  

 

It was a smaller crowd than possible, Merle unable to find the time away from wherever he was at the moment, Lucretia off helping with restorations from the war.  Magnus was already there when they arrived, and they found Davenport and Barry in the kitchen. Angus joined them soon afterwards, and despite Taako’s hesitations, he knew his sister’s skills.  Brunch was almost as amazing as if he’d made it himself.

 

Afterwards, he barely noticed Kravitz disappear out the backdoor with Angus, off to do _something_.  Angus was thirteen now, taller and older and the same as always, still overflowing just slightly with that ridiculous childhood energy.

 

Taako started to do dishes, stationing himself at the sink, but before he could turn the water on Lup caught his wrist and dragged him away.  Out of the kitchen, and straight into an intervention.

 

He narrowed his eyes as Lup pulled him down to sit on the couch, grateful that he was no longer sore enough to grimace involuntarily every time he sat.  Magnus inched a bit closer, sitting on the couch next to him, and Davenport was perched on the arm rest.

 

“What?” he asked suspiciously, cutting to the chase.

 

“Magnus is sad,” Davenport said, using that voice that left very little room for argument.  Taako’s eyebrows jumped up, and he glanced sideways at Magnus, found his mouth pressed into a firm line and eyes downcast.  “He wants to talk about it. So do I. This past month has been…. Rough.”

 

“Rough,” Taako said, word clumsy in his mouth.

 

“I have nightmares,” Magnus blurted out, voice too loud and bumbling in the air around them.  “Like the old days, the first few cycles. It was really bad back then, and… It’s bad again.”

 

It had been bad back then.  By cycle three they’d given up most of their shyness around each other and started sharing space more generously, curling up together in beds or in the common room when things were bad enough.  Taako and Lup had been sharing space the entire time, and it was an easy adjustment to share with Barry or Magnus or Lucretia or even Davenport and Merle on rare occasions.

 

“Mood swings,” Lup reported, voice uncharacteristically solemn.  “Barry will tell ya, it’s… they’re nothing to gawk at, that’s for sure.”  Barry nodded slightly and set a hand on her knee.

 

Davenport said, “PTSD.  I’m sure of it. I could be do- doing some simple, every day task, and suddenly I’ll panic con- convinced that we’re out of time.”  He spoke more slowly than he used to, before everything went to hell. Words coming out stuttered or getting lost halfway, a horrible remnant of their other lives.  Taako swallowed hard, starting to feel trapped.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, and Magnus’s voice was sharp when he responded.  

 

“Because friends talk about this shit,” he said.  “Because you’re the only people on this fucking planet who could possibly understand how fucked up I am, so just.  Just stop pretending to have walls up around us and let me talk about how sad I am.”

 

Lup’s hand wrapped his shoulder and squeezed, and Magnus’s eyes were pleading.  Davenport still had his ‘serious discussion’ face on, and Taako felt himself cracking a bit.  

 

He let the tension out of his shoulders in a single breath and said, “I hate myself.  For everything.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kravitz found them in the living room a little over an hour later.  He and Angus stopped in the doorway, looking overgrown pile of people on the couch, sitting in silent company with Johann’s music box playing quietly from the coffee table.  Magnus was out, dozing with his head back against the top of the couch and his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was sandwiched between Davenport, who was leaning back against his side and reading quietly, and Taako, who was tucked firmly under Magnus’s arm on the other side.  Taako was lounging with his legs over Lup’s lap, eyes shut and ears twitching every so often with dreams. Barry sat on the floor between Lup’s legs, head leaning on one of her knees and Lup’s hand running tenderly through his hair. Lup caught Kravitz’s eye and held a hand out, beckoning them forward.  Kravitz went to her side and lifted Taako’s legs enough that he could squeeze between Lup and the arm of the couch and settle Taako’s feet in his lap. Angus hesitated a moment, biting his lip, before Barry patted the spot next to him, let Angus slip into the gap between Kravitz and Lup’s legs and lean his head back against Taako’s side, knees pulled up to his chest comfortably.

 

Kravitz leaned into Lup and whispered, "You owe me ten gold pieces."  

 

She glanced at him sideways and studied him.  "No shit?" she asked, then clicked her tongue, then nodded.  "Damn, yeah, that makes sense I guess.  _Submitting_ to the Raven Queen and all that."  She put a lilt into her voice, and Kravitz glared playfully at her, grateful that his dark complexion hid his blush so long as he could keep the skin on his face. 

 

Angus tipped his head back and looked up at them, asking, "What?" and Barry looked up as well and raised an eyebrow.  This time Kravitz's face did fall off.  Lup snickered.  He dug his elbow into her side.

 

Taako stirred a bit, blinked his eyes open lazily and Kravitz could tell from the shadows that he’d been crying.  He gave Kravitz a small smile, however, and reached out to take his hand. Kravitz reached over Lup’s shoulders and intertwined their fingers, and Lup knocked her head gently against their knuckles.  

 

“Tell us a story, Davy Jones,” Taako said, voice lax and lazy.  He reached backwards around Magnus to flap a hand at the captain, who chuckled and cleared his throat before flipping back to the first page.

 

There shouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that all of them would be okay.  Kravitz was sure of it.

  
  
  
  



End file.
